Charmed by the Unknown Brazil

When in Rome, do like the Romans - they say…but what about Brazil?

Surely enough, your typical tourist will linger on the Ipanema Beach, or take active part in the Rio de Janeiro’s Carnaval…that is if you can do the Samba like the locals, or if you really want to embarrass yourself publicly, by exposing your elephantine grace.

A conscientious tourist will have at least a shot of himself underneath O Cristo Redentor, the famous statue of Christ the Redeemer located on the top of the Corcovado Mountain.

A shot together with the gorgeous dancers, on the Sambodromo. One on the beautiful beaches of Santa Catarina…Or perhaps a shot of the lively, rocky nights in Armação dos Búzios, catching up with the richest of the riches…

I, on the other hand have none of the above. I am a fortuitous tourist and a natural born traveler. While sailing, my itinerary is always imposed on me, but sometimes it’s for the best.

So, what can I tell you about Brazil? Something you haven’t already seen; something you don’t already know?

Maybe your paths have crossed the same places, in which case I am very happy for all the wonderful things you’ve seen. But if you’re planing your first trip to Brazil, here are some notes that may help you find places not (too often) mentioned in the travel guides.

To read the full entry, click on this link. I have a new, wonderful host and I am very excited to contribute with my first story.

http://www.darkroastedblend.com/2009/06/charmed-by-unknown-brazil.html

The Butterflies Farm

Once upon a time, a dreamer thought about a Butterflies farm. And then he made it come true. The Old English word for butterfly was buttorfleoge, apparently because butterflies were thought to steal milk. A similar word is found in Dutch and German, it seems they had the same belief. So, what do humans and butterflies have in common? They both get drunk, for instance. And fall in love. Or, the other way around – they fall in love and get drunk. It doesn’t really matter, the order. Some of them have only 6 days to live. So better make the best out of it.

I learn a new, oxymoronic meaning of “ephemerid”. Ironically, sometimes, it takes forever to become an ephemerid, if you’d believe that. It starts as a small egg, called chorion.

Butterflies leave their eggs on leaves, fixed with a special glue. The egg develops into a worm…well, caterpillar, which eats and eats continuously. It feeds for months. A caterpillar is green, while is still feeding on leaves. You’ll know the time has come for a new stage, when the caterpillar changes its color to dark and seeks shelter under a leaf, or on a tree branch. The chrysalis can be in latent phase for various times, from weeks to months.Then one day, a butterfly emerges.
I still don’t know exactly which butterfly has the shortest life span; but when it comes to live life to the fullest, well, butterflies can certainly do it. Beside the nectar, they drink the fermented juice of fruits touched by the sun, which probably has same effect as the good old whiskey on a chap wondering around in a torrid, scorching day. They drink, they mate, and they die happily ever after.

Kagoshima – I Dreamed of a Beautiful Cherry Blossom

The latest cinema trends have brought the Geishas fascination again to the Western World; maybe in a more glamorous dimension, I would think.
But really, how many people take the time to admire the beauty in a kimono?
I learned that kimonos have different patterns and different colors, for each season. Different styles and different colors for young and old. In the spring - bright colors and spring floral patterns. In autumn, fall colors and fall patterns: designs may include chrysanthemums or maple leaves. In the winter, patterns and designs such as the bamboo, pine trees or plum blossoms are worn, for they signify good luck and prosperity. The fabric also plays a role in the seasons. In the summer, cotton clothes are worn whereas in the fall and winter, heavier or lined clothing is worn.
For women in particular, the kimono is not only worn based on the person’s age but also by their marital status. Young unmarried women wear kimono with long sleeves that are very vibrant, colorful and rich with patterns. Married women or older women would wear simpler more subdued clothes.
As for the stories, I learned that the Sakura flower has its own dance.

Every hand movement, every finger tells a story – it’s all in the angles and in the inclination of the palm. I am dazzled both by the women’s elegant moves and by the perfection of their kimono dynamic, during the dance. They make it look so easy…I learn that the entire kimono clothing has an impressive weight.

The hair style requires hours of preparation, in order to reach perfection.

Do cats pray, I wonder? They certainly love to be around sanctuaries.

Suddenly, Life...

There are very few of us, truly determined to find their way around their lives. The truth is, we waste the most part of our existence waiting.
Waiting for a bus, waiting for a train…For a plane or for the car to be serviced. Waiting for someone or waiting for a phone call. Waiting for the perfect job, for the perfect man or for the perfect woman…for deadlines and results…waiting for a window to open, after the door was closed…or waiting for another door… Waiting for God to take care of us, like He takes care of the birds. Waiting for the Guardian Angel to shed some inspiration. Or for a muse.
We very seldom take the unbeaten path, discovering life as such. We live in comfortable, daily stereotypes, enjoying the sheltered corporate office, doing the 150 keystroke pm, listening the whisper of the mp3 player…So really, how does one prepare for life?
There’s life out there, in case you have forgotten. Just take a stroll, open each door and in the end you’ll be surprised by its Diversity, oozing from each and every corner.

There's No Place Like Home

There's no place like home, the story tells... And there are many good things in the world; but nothing compares with Fridays.
Fridays, bringing the scent of a well deserved week- end. The scent of my granny’s freshly baked bread. On the Country side you need to think both practically and globally. If you’re going to smolder the oven, then you better do it right. You can’t just make bread every day or every second day. You can’t bake too much, either, as it would go stale. So she worked out her own calculations and found out that a weekly operation will fit best our house’s needs.
In order to feed the whole house for about a week, you need around 4 or 5 kilos of flour. This was a serious thing, to wake up early in the morning and make the dough. She never used a mixer or any of the modern technology. Just her palms. And few drops of oil, poured on her hands, so the mix won’t stick. She’d knead the dough at ease, smiling, with the same serenity, every time. She made it seem a child’s play. At times she’d raise her arm against her forehead, trying to wipe a drop of sweat. Still smiling. After a while, she’d put the dough to rest for few hours and start preparing the pans. For me, this was always a mystery: two handfuls of dough in each, this will result in beautiful, big, round breads.
But there was never too much time to think about it; as soon as the bread was out of the oven, her hands were breaking the first one and shared it to us, all the kids gathered around the stove.
I was about 5 years old, when I started my first exploring adventure. I took the bread, still warm, I stuck it in my pocket and I head out to the hills surrounding the house. The path was somewhat steep and sinuous. Soon enough, the house was out of my visual array – I was somewhat afraid that I won’t find my way back home, but I kept walking, driven by the thought that I am going to bring her the most beautiful flowers that she had ever seen. My hands launched into a veritable vegetal pogrom – I must have been walking for hours and hours, picking up flowers, because I entered the porch together with the dusk.
She never grounded me for being out late…she smiled, when I returned. And so was I…
That day, I had discovered that suddenly there were no borders anymore; no boundaries could keep the world away from me. Since then, I never stopped exploring. But every trip refreshes in me this memory, lingering on…a somewhat forgotten bread crust aroma.
I am a natural – born traveler. My days are always fast and always on the move. Generally moving…wherever on the World’s Chart. Today, there’s no freshly baked bread to start a great week –end. In fact, I hardly have left any notion of week–end, but up to these days, in Fridays, there is the memory of a certain scent. The scent of my freedom.

I have no pictures left of my granny's house. In fact, I haven't been there in many years, after the house was sold, afraid of what I might find. But Transilvania has many similar places and I found one where I was really happy. And everywhere I go, the memory of my special place will follow.

Peru - A Peek through Eternity (III)

Ancient Traditions

Peruvian agriculture is based on terraced horticulture. A great part of the country is dominated by arid areas, thus every square centimetre of fertile land will be used.
The old Inca irrigation systems are still in place and used by the locals.

Weaving is the main occupation throughout the country and the Inca traditions are kept alive.

Children learn from an early age the art of weaving, knitting and combining the colours.

Incas believed that Pachamama, (a local version of Mother Earth) looked after the crops and caused the earthquakes.
Today, the Quechua populations still venerate the “good mother” by small toasts before festivities and family gatherings. The first sip of chicha (drink made out of maize), is spilled on the floor as a sign of honour. Representations of Pachamama are seen in every traditional house.

Ceramic arts are also a secular tradition which now brings substantial revenue. Tourists are taking home souvenirs, sustaining small communities.

Children are taught to respect their historical heritage by taking an active part in community Festivals & Fairs.

A villager near Cuzco, offering weaving lessons.

The wool is dyed with various natural pigments; the colourful Peruvian textiles are famous world wide.

Every village has its own patterns, shapes and stories.

The Animals

Peru raises various species of the Camelidae family: Vicuñas, Llamas and Alpaca.

Vicuñas are protected by law and they can only be sheared in government-authorised “chacus” (communal efforts). Extremely hard to tame, they can only be shorn every 3 years. Their wool is used for the finest textiles Peru offers.

Llamas and alpacas are the most common animals on the Andean regions. From the times of the Incas, llamas and alpacas have been used as pack animals, as well as for more domestic purposes: garments, fertilizer, fuel, hides and meat.

Corridas (Bull fights) are one of the most enjoyed entertainments. Special breeds of bulls are being raised and it is not unusual to see occasional fights on the road.

Peruvians are proud of their unique, ancient breed of dog, Viringo. These dogs have no fur, only a patch of hair on the top of their head. Their body temperature is quite high and it is believed that the old Incas were using Viringos to cure asthma, by placing the dog on the patient’s chest. As a symbol of the Inca inheritance, every historical site has to own at least one Viringo dog.

In the mountains, the villagers are aware that their survival is conditioned by their animals and they celebrate this bond in a distinct way. In Chivay, a yearly ritual includes honouring the hawks and the bulls.